


Half-drunk Coffee

by BID



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Explicit Consent, Face-Sitting, Intercrural Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No consent issues, Non-binary character, Oral Sex, Other, POV Second Person, Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Werewolves, monsterkinkmeme, no loss of control from heat, no mention of female genitals, t-cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18400856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/pseuds/BID
Summary: Prompt-fill for monsterkinkmeme.tumblr.com.This is a generally untypical "in-heat" fic, as I avoided the usual tropes of losing control or being "drunk on hormones" and all that kind of stuff. It just means they're extra horny and smell different to fellow werewolves.Prompt: You were distantly descended from werewolves on you’re great-great-great grandfather’s side. The blood was so diluted in you that you didn’t shift, but you did have certain… inconvenient traits. Like the fact that you’d been in heat for days with no relief. You were single, and your own ministrations were doing nothing to help. Trying to function as an adult was hard enough, but it was nearly impossible in your current condition.Walking down the street to get home from work, you passed a cafe where a handsome young man sat. His nostrils flared and his head popped up, staring directly at you with wide, brown eyes. Eyes that were suddenly changing to yellow...





	Half-drunk Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’m filling one of these prompts, but it just stuck with me so I gave it a try! 
> 
> About ‘You’ aka Morgan to avoid confusion. They are non-binary and take testosterone. This makes the clit grow a few centimetres and is in here referred to as 'cock’ (commonly also called a t-cock). There are no female genitals mentioned beyond 'folds’.
> 
> You can see the post here:

Prompt: You were distantly descended from werewolves on you’re great-great-great grandfather’s side. The blood was so diluted in you that you didn’t shift, but you did have certain… inconvenient traits. Like the fact that you’d been in heat for days with no relief. You were single, and your own ministrations were doing nothing to help. Trying to function as an adult was hard enough, but it was nearly impossible in your current condition.

Walking down the street to get home from work, you passed a cafe where a handsome young man sat. His nostrils flared and his head popped up, staring directly at you with wide, brown eyes. Eyes that were suddenly changing to yellow...

\---

You both stand still staring at each other, neither of you doing so much as blink until he stumbles to his feet, almost toppling over the glass full of coffee on the table in front of him, taking three steps out of the cafés outdoor area towards you, until he seems to remember himself.

You are a good arm's length apart and for a moment you had been worried this was going to get dramatic, in the sense that you'd have gotten your knuckles bruised. Thankfully this doesn't appear to be the case.

"Mam," he starts, voice quiet and seemingly trying to figure out how to address you, right thumb rubbing his left palm as he looks down and back up your body, "Sir?"

You can't help but laugh. "Morgan is fine," you offer, well aware that this isn't going to help him figure out this particular puzzle any more than your looks.

"Morgan," he confirms, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you, I was-" he hesitates, evidently unsure how to choose his words.

"Surprised?" you offer.

"Yeah, something like that," he smiles ruefully, trying not to react when a gust of wind must blow your smell, completely imperceptible for regular humans, straight at his face. You are about to move, stand at a different angle to him to be polite, if nothing else, when he nervously licks his lips and says, "I know this is a terribly personal question but, will you be doing ok?"

Your automatic reaction is, of course, to say 'Yes, I'll be fine.' But looking at him, almost the same height as you, tight black leggings under running shorts and a windbreaker, buzzed short dark hair, dark skin, white teeth and golden eyes, well, you have to admit that he looks good. Handsome.

"I wouldn't be opposed to an invitation for coffee," you try, can see his eyes widen with surprise, "if you were offering."

"Yes, yes I'd be happy to! Sit with me?" he asks, pointing back at his table and you nod.

"Let me just get something to drink?"

"Of course," he says, smiling softly and sits down by his coffee,"I'll be here."

You enter the café, walk up to the counter and notice that his back is turned to the glass front as he watches the few people walking through the pedestrian zone, or maybe the old buildings and their strange ornaments. Either way, he is not looking at you, the counter, or the second entrance from the parallel street. You could simply leave and he'd be none the wiser.

You wonder if that is exactly what he is doing, offering an escape.

Interesting.

With an espresso and a glass of water in hand, you shoulder your way through the door back outside and you can't help but notice the way he startles as you set them down on the table and pull back your chair.

"Hi," you say casually as you sit down.

"Hi," he replies, beaming at you like this is a most pleasant surprise, "I'm James by the way."

You nod, and there is a moment of an almost-awkward silence while you sip at your water.

"So, just to get any misunderstandings out of the way since, you know, I currently have a bit of a one-track mind" you say, hoping you are not blushing too much, or at least not more than you already are with your situation,"are you offering to come home with me and, um?"

You can't think of any possible way to end this sentence in a dignified manner, but you see him bite at his thick lower lip for a moment and the look of controlled eagerness on him is enough to make you cross your legs the other way.

"Satisfy you as long and thorough as you'd permit me?" he asks, voice a low hum and gently curling his long fingers around your own. Not even a hold, but a drag of skin on skin that you know feels so much more intense than normal.

"Yeah," you reply hoarsely, "that."

"I'd be happy to, though," he hesitates, "I don't think I'd manage to stay like this. Do you mind shifting?"

"Not at all," you reply, trying not to imagine his more bestial form, you have been with plenty of men and women who were shifters to be able to predict some parallels but they rarely end up being exactly what you expected. "Though I can't do it myself, sorry."

"No worries, I take it you're a mix?"

"A couple generations down yes, enough to be trouble," you can't help but add a joke, sighing dramatically, "all that nice silver jewellery."

He laughs openly and squeezes your hand, "I once got my ear pierced, a good friend insisted we get a matching set. It seemed like a good idea until they put it in with a piercing gun and I realised that they used a silver earring."

You almost inhale the sip of espresso as you try not to laugh, "How do you not notice?!"

"I read up and everyone uses steel for first earrings!" he defends, "besides I can barely keep them apart and who uses silver without warning these days anyway? There are health and safety laws for this, you know!"

Giggling you notice the glint of a small gold stud in his left ear, "I can see it turned out nicely though. It suits you, looks tasteful."

His free hand immediately moves to his earlobe, rubbing at the metal and seeming bashful, "Thank you."

He is sweet, you think, flirty but not pushy, touchy but not grabby, definitely someone who would be laughing in bed and you can't help but picture him lying in your nice cotton sheets you put on just this morning after the weekend of lone debauchery, their warm yellow color giving his dark skin, by then undoubtedly shiny with sweat, a golden glow. Imagine his palms against your skin, claws, wonder how his straight white teeth, flashing between his lips as you watch him talk, might change, become long and pointed, how they might feel against-

"Morgan?"

You startle, realising you'd been staring at his mouth, so you make sure to look him in the eyes. He'd been talking for a bit, a minute maybe, but you'd gotten none of that.

"Sorry," you say, embarrassed, shifting in your seat, crossing your legs the other way again, "I wasn't listening."

"It's got a pretty tight hold on you, hmh?" he asks, voice calm and understanding, giving you fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah," you admit embarrassed. "It's been a couple days. It um," his thumb rubs at your wrist, the patch of sensitive skin between your watch and palm. You have to swallow. "It seemed to let up this morning so I figured I'd be able to distract myself with work but I didn't manage to do anything at all by my first break, so I decided to wait it out." It's not even ten am and you are dreading the afternoon when it becomes worst.

"I'm sorry," he says as if he could have any fault in this, "let me take care of you?"

You nod and he lifts your wrist to his lips. "I'll be gentle," he promises quietly and lays a soft kiss on the skin he'd pet earlier, "and careful," his teeth scrape, an almost imperceptible pressure, "and thorough."

You make sure that, what could have been a moan, leaves your throat as no more than a quiet sigh when his lips open against your skin and you can feel his breath for a moment, the hot wet tip of his tongue against your wrist and then his mouth closes on this small, unassuming patch of skin and he sucks.

James watches you through half-closed eyes, smiling as you bite your lower lip, shift in your seat. There are goosebumps visible on your arms.

"Let's go?" he asks, both of your coffees aren't even half done.

"Let's," you confirm, getting up and you are surprised when he offers you his hand as you walk side by side. The touch is as electric as it is grounding. A promise that you just need a little more patience.

"Condoms?" he asks quietly after a couple minutes of comfortable silence as you lead the two of you out of the historic centre of the city into the side streets.

"I still have immunity," you offer, one of the pros of your heritage, "and can't become pregnant so I don't see the necessity, but if you prefer?"

He looks at you oddly again, as if trying to figure you out, trying to guess at what he'll find under your clothes no doubt, but nods anyway, "I'm good without if they're not needed. Just wanted to make sure."

"I appreciate it," you admit, "better to ask than assume."

"Exactly my thought. If you ever get uncomfortable or worried at all tell me to stop, ok?"

"I will, same for you though."

"Of course," he says, watching you closely, "It's just that I'll be bigger than you. Stronger. There is little you can do that I couldn't stop by just-" your held hands suddenly twist behind your back and he bends down, free arm looping under your knees and lifting you up effortlessly as you almost shriek in surprise, "-picking you up."

You wiggle your trapped arm free and wrap them tightly around his neck as not to fall, or be dropped. Struck dumb for a moment, as you realise that he is still walking down the side street, not even breathing harder or slowing down. There is a levity in his step and smile that belies the fact that he is carrying an adult in his arms.

"Stop," you say almost dazed and he halts immediately.

"Sorry," James apologizes, shifting as if to set you down.

"No, no just, you walked past my flat," you point over his shoulder over a set of red brick stairs, "though I don't think you want to carry me up the stairs to the third floor."

James grins, "Is that a challenge? Cause I can."

"Don't be ridiculous," you dig in your pockets for your house key, laughing when he simply stands in front of the door for you to open it without any indicator of setting you down.

"Third floor?" he confirms as he starts walking up the stairs, taking them two at a time, each step a lunge in your belly and you find yourself pressing your face against his neck, not wanting to look at the steep staircase behind you. It looks terrifyingly high up like this, though it should barely be a change from your usual perspective.

"The left one," you say when he stops and then you unlock that door too. 

As James comes to a halt in your living room you can feel his chest heave for breath but he just grins down at you, barely even sweating, "Told you so."

You can't help but laugh, "So you did, big strong werewolf throwing around his muscles to impress?"

"Stealing you away for debauchery, more like," he carefully bends down to set you back on your feet, "though I should probably shower first, I was running before I went for coffee."

"Sure," you offer, "I probably should too, to be honest."

"Oh?" he raises an intrigued eyebrow.

"In my en-suite shower," you add, "you'll have the bathtub. Meet me in the bedroom then you're done?"

"Will do," he replies, "Towels?"

You point at the bathroom door, "White cupboard, lowest door."

"Thanks, see you in a minute?"

"See you in a minute," you confirm and leave for your bedroom but only start your own quick shower when you hear him lock the door and turn on the water.

By the time you are dry, clean and have oiled your skin to be pleasant and smooth, you are wet with anticipation and the small bathroom is choked with enough hormones as that you can smell yourself.

When you open the door you are greeted by the sight of your cream curtains closed, the morning sun filtering through and putting everything into an odd, diffused light. James is sitting on your bed, back against the headboard and a white towel wrapped around his hips. He stares at you, eyes bright yellow, reflecting the bathroom light behind you until you switch it off.

As you walk over to him, his eyes follow you, glancing at your body, your hips, the way you walk, your hands, as you pluck the book you've been reading recently out of his grasp and return it to the nightstand. Your lips as you bend down to him.

He is trying to hide it, you know, but you can see how he breathes in, lips parted to taste the air as much as smell it, how there is a noticeable bulge under the towel. You are not nearly that bashful about your senses, barely above average, as you bypass his face and instead lean down to his neck, take a deep inhale and smell your own men's soap on him, your laundry detergent from the towel, hot skin.

You straighten back up and he follows you, kneeling by the edge of the bed, towel undone but still covering him, hands on his thighs and looking up at you. He wets his lips as you watch him but that is all he does.

There is a drip down the inside of your thighs and the minuscule movement catches his eye, makes him shift his weight, take a shuddering breath before his eyes move back up to your face, his heart is beating so hard you can see his pulse in the dip of his collarbone.

"James," you say, voice calmer than you feel but oh, how he focuses on you, "please touch me."

You'd expected he'd throw himself forward and overwhelm you, take you in all at once, wrangle you onto the bed. Instead only his hands move, set down on your hips and slide over your belly, over the symmetric scars and your flat chest, making your skin tingle and your breath falter as finally, finally, you have someone else's touch. Hands brushing up your neck make you lean down and press your lips to his, lick into his mouth as he moans, nip at his lips, press your tongues against each other, enjoying the taste and texture, the wetness.

You dig your fingers under his folded legs, lifting him up with some effort and dropping him further away from the edge, you can tell by his wide eyes that he hadn't expected that. Maybe he thought you just smell like a wolf in heat but no. You grin at his speechless surprise, distracting him by climbing into his lap and pressing yourself down against his cock. You are still separated by the towel, of course, but he groans and digs his fingers into your thighs.

"So," he says, voice hoarse, "you got the smell, the nose, the eyes, the cycles," his listing is interrupted by your hips rolling against his lap and you both moan, him openly any you muffled against his neck, "the strength. Any other surprises?"

"Just these," you say, and open your mouth, digging pointed teeth where his neck meets his shoulder and James gasps.

"All the best things, hmh?" he laughs, clinging tight to you before pushing himself up on his knees and laying you onto the bed, pulling the towel off and placing it under your hips as you push them up.

"If you say so," you answer with a faint lisp due to your fangs, you are too distracted by his hands on the insides of your thighs to care about shifting them back, "come on James, I've been waiting for this for days."

"Patience is a virtue, dear," he murmurs against your hip bone, his chest framed by your knees before he nips at the skin, massages the creases where your legs and torso meet. You feel as if you must be radiating heat with him so close to touching you where you need it, and James shudders when he licks up the drop from the inside of your thigh. You can see his cock twitch where it hangs, hard and heavy, between his legs.

"James," you chide as a finger oh-so-gently slides across your wet skin.

He has the audacity to chuckle and you are just about to flip him over and take matters into your own hands (definitely not your hands though) when his tongue licks against your cock and you keen under him, pressing your hips up for more.

"James," you demand.

"Yes," he moans before he slides his tongue between your folds, licks broad and deep into you and all the way up to your cock. You barely notice him swallow as you are shaking, burning with lust, you feel like your body went straight past orgasming into overstimulation and yet it's not nearly enough when he repeats it and you grind up into his mouth.

"Up," he orders, kissing you as he pulls you to sit up against him, you're not sure what he means to do, but you rub yourself, hot and wet as you are, against his length in silent revenge for taking his mouth off of you.

James swears but manoeuvres you to switch places with him, pushing you up onto your knees until your hands hold onto your headboard and you finally realise what he is doing when he slides down the bed, "Come on," he urges,"I want you to- mmh!"

You don't let him finish, pressing yourself against him and shuddering as he licks your folds, slides his tongue into you and up against your cock. You gently shift your hips against him, guided by his hands gripping your thighs and butt, you moan as he wraps his lips around you and sucks, letting you fuck into his mouth until you are shaking all over, groaning with every shift and close, so, so close but not quite there.

"James, please," you whisper, voice needy, and only then he slides two fingers into you, making you shudder wordlessly, clenching down on them and rutting against his lips and tongue in short aborted movements before the air gets punched out of your chest with a moan and you freeze, feel yourself twitch against him.

 

"Oh wow," you whisper once you have air, shifting your weight down from his hands and face to sit on his chest as you collect yourself, your legs feel like jelly. James bites at his lips, wipes his chin with his hand.

"Can I-" his voice is shaking and when you glance over your shoulder as you manoeuvre yourself further down, you can see that there is a pool of precome on his lower belly, "Can I?"

You carefully hold his cock and place it between your legs, laying against you, curving up against your ass and James moans as you pressed it up against you with your hand, sliding your wet crotch against him, a mockery of what he really wants. James sits up so you are chest to chest, pulls his legs under him until he kneels and your knees frame his hips, is about to hold you when you climb off of him.

"Hold on," you say, meaning to just rearrange yourself but you are spellbound for a moment by the sight he makes. Kneeling on your bed, chin and chest wet from your orgasm, cock standing hard with a milky bead of pre-come at its tip, hands lax at his sides and watching you. Oh, the way he watches you, eyes hooded and dark, face flushed, lips parted and breathing heavily. He is beautiful and you can't help but lean forward to kiss him, taste yourself sour on his lips and suck at his tongue at the same pace as you are rubbing your thumb over the leaking slit of him, making James moan into your mouth, his hips twitch and fingers stutter in their movement across your chest.

You have to hold him in place as you move so he won't just follow you, pressing your back against his chest, kneeling your legs between his and sitting in his lap with his cock between your legs again. James kneels both of you up so he can move, fucking himself against your folds and between your thighs. You move his hand resting on your hip forward to where the tip of his cock peeks out when you are flush against each other, let him rub against his own fingers, against your cock, enjoy his hot breath against your shoulders, the bites against the back of your neck. When you push his fingers further between your legs he seems confused for a moment, until, instead of cupping his cock you press them flush against you and guide him up and inside you, a delicious slide of heat and pressure that has you both moan in unison. He pulls his hand back and presses the butt of his palm just above your pubic bone, making you feel him push in all the more intensely, his other hand is spread over your chest, holding you pressed against him as he shallowly thrusts in and out.

James’ rhythm is so stuttering that you think he means he'll climax when he says "Sorry, I'm going to- mh-" but instead of feeling him twitch and come inside you, there suddenly is the soft glide of fur against you back, the pads of his fingers turned rough, sharp teeth and a long tongue press against your shoulder. He'd slipped out of you as he shifted, only the tip of him still pressing against your opening, carefully rubbing against you in a terribly teasing way, making you whine and try to press down onto him. James is now holding you up though, as your knees don't have enough contact with the mattress to hold your weight, just a couple centimetres difference but enough to make your position an entirely different one. He is still mostly humanoid aside from his head, you realise as he moves your arms to loop back against his neck and cups your thighs and ass to hold you up, giving him space to roll his hips, thrusting into you deeper and deeper each time, letting you get used to this slightly bigger shape.

It's a heady sensation, being carried by him again, held up by the strength of his arms alone like you weight nothing. You could probably try and help, get your feet under you, but at this position, you think it's more likely that you'd get a cramp than anything else. The way he eagerly fucks into you, once you start groaning with every thrust is too good though, the angle is fantastic. The control he has over you, over himself. You could stay like this, you think, pass your heat in his arms and his cock so deep in you that there is nothing left to give. He groans, growls, a vibration deep in his chest when you tilt your hips towards him, arching your back, changing the angle with his cock twitching in you, hips stuttering while he sets you back onto his lap.

He drops both of you forward, most of his weight on his elbows and knees but still pressing you hard into the mattress, one clawed hand curled over your shoulder to press you down onto him, the other pushes your hand further until your fingers slide against your cock, wet with your arousal and your start rubbing at it while he holds your hip. Ruts into you hard and deep but never pulling out too far.

The combination of the pressure on top of you and inside you, the heat of his breath, the slide of his tongue against your neck, the smell of sex, the wet sounds, the way your fingers glide across your cock with just your own wetness, it all proves too much and with another deep thrust of his, you feel yourself shake apart almost suddenly. Clenching around his cock as he eagerly fucks you through it, moaning in unison at every thrust, every slide, until he finally drives into you one final time, holding himself in, twitching his hips as he spurts into you.

 

By the time James slides down next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist, he is human again and you both simply lie there, panting, hugging with post-coital clinginess. For the first time this cycle you feel actually sated and it's such a relief you laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm really glad you were so smitten by me you jumped out of your seat."

"Well," James starts, as if to make a counter-argument, "You know what, yeah, me too."

"I'm hungry," you complain, the appetite you didn't have the last couple days catching up on you.

"I make good fried eggs and toast?" James offers and you can't help but grin.

"Polite, funny, a great lay, and a breakfast cook?", you prop yourself up in your elbows to look him in the face and joke, "Watch out or I'll want to keep you."

He bashfully grins up at you and replies, "Well maybe you should!"

"Maybe after a date or two," you tap your finger on his cheekbone,"We didn't even finish our coffees so today doesn't count."

James laughs, "I promise I'll give you the proper dating experience once all this hormone business is done, if you're not tired of me by then."

"We'll see," you tease and press a soft kiss to his lips.

You don't think you'll get tired of him any time soon.


End file.
